


Definition of a Lifetime

by Shinybug



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, Kitchen Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 17:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21122513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: In which Danny defines his life, Steve is impatient, and there are many feels.





	Definition of a Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> As with so many of my stories, this is not set in any particular time or episode, just generally in the later seasons. There are no spoilers, it completely ignores canon. Just roll with it.

Steve opens the door as he’s pulling a shirt over his head. It’s late for a visit and Danny didn’t call, but Steve doesn’t look surprised to see him. His shirt is caught up on itself and Danny can see the purpling bruises on his ribs, streaking toward his navel. Danny swallows hard.

“Hey man, what’s going on?” Steve fixes his shirt and tugs it down over his belly. He’s wearing boxers, and Danny realizes that he must have been in bed. He steps aside and Danny hesitates on the porch. “You want to come in, have a beer?” Steve asks cautiously.

“Yeah,” Danny croaks, then shakes his head. “No.”

Steve’s brow furrows. He takes a deep breath, seeming to guess why Danny is there. Danny thinks any assumption of Steve’s would probably be wrong. “You want to come in? Or are we gonna do this on the porch?” He glances past Danny to peer out at the street, as though there would be any eavesdropping neighbors at 11:30 at night.

Danny steps across the threshold and heads toward the kitchen, and he hears Steve close the front door behind him. Danny grabs a beer from the fridge but doesn’t open it. It’s more for having something to hold in his hands anyway.

“Look, if this is about--” and Steve is gesturing toward his bruises, hidden away now.

“Shut up, okay?”

Steve’s mouth snaps closed and he looks stunned, eyebrows lifted. He opens his mouth again, and Danny points his finger up in a shushing motion.

“I said shut up, Steve. I’ve got something to say.” And now that he’s standing here, in Steve's darkened kitchen with only the light from the stove’s hood to illuminate Steve’s face, his eyes, Danny hopes he’s brave enough to do this.

Steve nods slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. Danny does not miss the slight flinch as the motion pulls at his ribs. He looks resigned and almost angry.

“First of all, you didn’t almost die. I get that, so today was actually a pretty good day as far as your track record for brushes with death are concerned. So yes, I'm here because of that," he says, gesturing at Steve's side,"just not the way you think. I’m not pissed that you jumped off a building, and I’m not even going to yell at you for leaping before you look. That’s just what you do, and I’ve known you long enough to come to terms with that.”

“Then what--it’s late, Danny, get to your point.” Steve looks slightly perplexed now, but still on the defensive. 

“Okay, look,” Danny says, pushing his fingers through his hair in agitation. He had a whole speech planned, but it's rapidly disintegrating as he stands so close to Steve, smelling the warm sleep-scent of him, watching his eyes as they go through a range of emotions that Danny can't track in the dark. “I’m trying to say that...I need to tell you…”

Steve lets out a long exhale and a slow blink, clearly reaching for patience. He leans one hip against the kitchen counter, staring at Danny’s beer, still unopened.

"In our line of work there are no guarantees. So I know that someday I might lose you, or you might lose me, and there's something I want to say before that happens." 

"I'm listening," Steve mutters, running a hand over his hair, but he looks as though he'd rather be on another island entirely than have this conversation. 

Danny takes a deep breath and forges ahead. “I’ve known you for the better part of a decade. That’s a quarter of my life. It doesn’t sound like a lot when I say it like that, but I don’t really count the first twenty years of my life. I was an asshole kid, I didn’t know anything, I was barely formed. The next decade I gave to Rachel, and even after the divorce I thought of her in terms of defining my life.”

“Are you gonna drink that?” Steve interrupts, pointing at the bottle. “Because if you’re not then I think I might need it.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to tell you something.”

Steve rubs his face with one hand and readjusts his stance against the counter. His hand rests there on the edge, index finger trembling like he wants to tap it in impatience, but is trying to be polite. Danny stares at his hand, wanting so badly to touch, not daring to.

“Here’s the thing,” Danny continues, and he can’t push enough air into his voice so it comes out oddly thin. “When I look back on my life in ten, twenty, thirty years, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’ll have defined my entire life by just two people, Grace and you. That’s it.”

He falls silent. He wants Steve to say something, anything, but Steve just stares at him, his eyes dark. Danny can hear the clock on the wall ticking softly, and he clings to the rhythm of it, trying to stop shaking. He feels his fingers slipping in the condensation of the cold bottle he’d forgotten he was holding, and he holds it out to Steve as an awkward olive branch.

Steve takes the bottle and immediately sets it down. He slides his hand across the counter toward Danny, and Danny meets it halfway. Steve’s fingers are warm under his, and shaking too. Steve takes a step forward, just one is all it takes, and then his arms are around Danny and he’s leaning down to bury his face against Danny’s neck. Danny can feel Steve’s hitching breaths against his own chest and slowly reaches his arms up around Steve’s shoulders, breathing in the scent of him, salt and wood.

“Love you,” he says softly against Steve’s temple. “You’re everything. I just need you to know.”

Steve is shaking so hard that Danny thinks he might fall over, so he braces his feet and holds him up. “I didn’t think,” Steve tries, his voice hoarse and muffled, “I didn’t know.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Danny,” he says, his mouth moving against the sensitive skin of Danny’s neck when he speaks.

Danny shivers and takes a leap of faith. “We’ve already got everything else, the whole package, we have for years, Steve. We’re just missing one piece. And if you don’t want it, it’ll be okay, because we’ve got each other either way, but if you--”

He breaks off because Steve is kissing him, tentatively, his mouth trembling like the rest of him. Danny blows past Steve’s reservations because he’s just so damn tired of waiting, and sweeps his tongue through Steve’s lips and licks into his mouth. He tastes the same way he smells, salty and sweet together. Steve makes a sound like he’s dying and pulls Danny closer, his hands on Danny’s hips.

“I’m not expecting anything--I mean, whatever you can give, I want it all, Steve, even if it’s just this,” Danny says against Steve’s mouth, stumbling over his thoughts and dizzy with the rush of desire.

Steve fingers flex on Danny’s hips and pull him tight, letting him feel how hard he is already. Danny huffs a laugh and presses right back, loving the rough friction. Steve’s head rolls back and he groans. “You think I’d come this far and not go the distance with you? I’ve been waiting so long, but it never felt like the right time. Or maybe I was afraid. Now I just think of all the time wasted.”

“It wasn’t wasted, babe,” Danny whispers, holding Steve’s face in both hands. “I still had you, and you had me. It was just the longest, weirdest courtship in history.”

Steve laughs and kisses him, and it’s hard to kiss while smiling but they try it anyway. Steve crowds Danny up against the refrigerator and runs his hands over Danny’s stomach, up into his hair, gripping and sliding, as though testing for resistance. Danny feels about as naked as he can be with all his clothes still on, and he slips his thigh between Steve’s to let him know that he’s all in, that there’s no resistance to find.

Danny realizes belatedly that he’s allowed to touch too, and runs his hands under Steve’s shirt, along the warm skin above the elastic of his boxers. Steve grunts and jerks back, panting against Danny’s mouth.

“Do that again,” he pleads.

“This?” Danny slides his thumb across his stomach, watching the muscles jump, slipping just below the line of his boxers. “Or this?” With his other hand he reaches around and trails his fingers across the small of Steve’s back and lower, pressing lightly.

“Fuck, Danny,” he moans, rolling his forehead against Danny’s.

“That’s nothing, babe,” Danny promises, in awe of how affected Steve is by a simple touch, like he’s starved for it. He pulls Steve’s shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. Suddenly all that skin is right there, and he can feel the heat of it on his lips even before he makes contact, kissing and tasting as he goes down. His knee is going to kill him tomorrow, and he doesn’t even care.

Steve stares in disbelief as Danny settles himself down before him, tugging on Steve’s boxers until they fall to the floor, and then Steve’s cock bobs right there in front of Danny’s face and he can’t stop himself from testing the tip with his tongue. More salt, and Danny knows he will never be able to taste the ocean without thinking of Steve like this. Steve groans and braces both hands against the refrigerator door.

Danny goes slow, savoring the weight on his tongue, the inexorable hardness against his throat and the slide of silken skin against his lips. It’s been a long, long time since he did this, but it seems to be enough for Steve, who is breathing like a bellows above him and saying his name so softly that Danny wonders if he even knows he’s doing it.

He finds a rhythm and rocks with it, only later realizing that he’s timed it with the clock ticking on the wall. Steve’s cock throbs in his mouth and Danny gets ready for the finish, but Steve pulls him off and up, slamming him against the refrigerator and kissing him hard and rough. “Not like that,” he mutters, maybe to himself.

“What do you need, babe? What can I do?”

Steve shakes his head, helpless. He fumbles with Danny’s belt and the fly of his jeans, and Danny helps get them down and off. Steve strips Danny's shirt off him in one swift motion, and then they’re both naked, pressed together, shared heat pushing away the cool air around them.

“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to just push you up against a wall and kiss you, suck you off, fuck you? God, Danny, I lost count years ago, I just wanted to have you any way I could get you. I just wanted you.”

Danny shudders and braces his back against the fridge. He hitches up his leg around Steve’s, slotting their hips together, his cock catching on Steve’s, and he hisses while Steve groans. “Go for it,” Danny says, a challenge and permission at the same time.

Steve kisses him hard, biting at his mouth, and Danny opens up for him, letting Steve take and give, letting him go wild. Steve grabs at Danny’s thigh and rocks into him, the motion gentler than his kiss. “Next time, next time--” Steve tries, breaking off, and Danny knows how he would finish the sentence if he could.

"Okay, but this time," Danny coaxes, "this is good." He curls his hand so that they're both thrusting into it as they move. For a minute they move together in a new rhythm, and Danny isn't as surprised as he thinks he should be that it's so easy for them to find it. 

"We're in the kitchen," Steve protests, in between kisses. 

"Don't care," Danny declares breathlessly, chasing a fast burn and bringing Steve with him. "I wouldn't care if we were on the moon right now." 

"This would be a lot harder on the moon." Steve sounds strangled, thrusting harder. 

Danny twists his wrist and says "Shut up, Steve," and then they're finishing messily, one after another, and as they cling to each other and let the refrigerator hold them up, Danny isn't sure which of them was first. 

Eventually Steve finds his feet and tugs Danny to the sink, and they wash their hands under the tap. Steve finds a washcloth in a drawer and gently cleans them up. 

"See? Kitchen is good," Danny says, grinning. Steve rolls his eyes and kisses him slow and sweet.

"You know, I hope you already know…" Steve tries, "I'm not as good as you when it comes to saying things out loud, but…" 

Danny nods. "I know, babe. I've always known. It just needed to be said." 

Steve wraps his arms around Danny and holds onto him for a long time. 

Eventually he pulls back to take Danny’s shoulders in his hands. His expression is serious, his eyes playful. "We also need to talk about how many times you told me to shut up tonight." 

Danny laughs. "Like you just said, babe. Between the two of us, I'm the talker. No need to strain yourself. I'm just saving you the energy." 

"I've never been short on energy, Danny. I can go all night if I need to." He gives Danny a wink and a lopsided smile. 

"Seriously, how did you ever get laid, this something I need to know." 

"I usually aimed for the bedroom, for one thing, instead of the kitchen." 

"Ah, but the kitchen has beer," Danny points out, popping the top off the forgotten bottle and leaning naked against the counter to drink it. 

Steve's gaze is burning in the dark. "Yes, but the bedroom has a bed." 

Danny looks him up and down, and damn if Steve isn't already half hard again. "Occasionally you do have good ideas, Steven. Not often, mind you, but you do have them." 

"I have good ideas all the time, what are you talking about?" Steve is grinning, unoffended, holding out his hand to Danny. 

Danny shakes his head and links his fingers with Steve, heading to the stairs. "Ideas involving explosives do not count. But I'll allow you to think otherwise just for tonight, I'm too distracted by your dick to argue with you." 

"And that's how I always got laid," Steve replies smugly. 

Danny almost tells him to shut up again, but opts for kissing the hell out of him on the landing instead. The effect is the same. 

"Seriously though," Danny whispers when they come up for air. "My whole life, Steve." 

"Yeah," Steve replies, and Danny can hear a lifetime in that one word.


End file.
